Pain and Pomegranates
by Jupiter42
Summary: PostAbandoned AU. As Shannon lies comatose, Sayid spirals toward despair. Or at least, he would, if pomegranate seeds didn't keep flying at his head.
1. Accusations

Title: Pain and Pomegranates

Rating: T

Characters: Sayid, Sawyer, Shannon, some Libby and Sun

Ships: Sayid/Shannon

Summary: Post-"Abandoned" AU. As Shannon lies comatose, Sayid spirals toward despair. Or at least, he would, if pomegranate seeds didn't keep flying at his head.

Author's notes: Why, yes, I am in denial. Come join me. It's better here. This is also my first fanfic, so please review.

Disclaimer: The characters and locations of Lost are owned by JJ, Damon, and the folks of ABC, and I am making no profit from this.

**Pain and Pomegranates**

**Part 1: Accusations**

Sayid ran frantically through the jungle. He knew he had seen the boy disappear into the bushes ahead of him. Shannon had been right. Now, if he could just catch up to Walt, she might forgive him. The jungle was stranger than usual today. Anything he didn't look directly at blurred slightly, and his feet made no noise as he ran. Bolting into the clearing, he was rewarded with the sight of the boy in front of him, crouched over something. "Walt!" Sayid called out, and the boy looked up at him with dark, accusatory eyes.

"It's your fault," the boy said. "You said you'd watch out for Vincent." As Walt stood up, Sayid saw the dog laying motionless, covered in blood. He instinctively knew the boy was right; it was his fault the dog was dead. However, he couldn't remember at all how it had happened. As he was pondering this, he heard a female voice behind him, and felt a light touch on his back.

"That's too bad. You should have done better, Sayid." He turned slowly, afraid she would be angry with him, afraid she wouldn't be there at all. But she was there, and she was smiling at him. Shannon. His Shannon. She always managed to look so beautiful. Even on a deserted island, she resembled some model on a western magazine cover. But far more beautiful than the spotless clothes and perfect hair, was the light shining in her hazel eyes whenever she looked at him. He pulled her into a deep kiss, savoring the feel of her lithe body against his, the way her sleek, fine hair slipped through his fingers, the scent of her perfume. Walt and Vincent long forgotten, he determined to lead her back to the shelter he had built for her, and make love to her as he had before. But something was wrong. She was pulling away from him.

As she stepped back, he froze in shock. Her shirt was covered in blood. He tried to breathe, but couldn't. She smiled up at him. She turned and said playfully, "I'm running away again, Sayid. This time, I don't think you'll catch me." She took off through the jungle. He ran after her, determined to prove her wrong.

He stumbled blindly through thick bushes, and around trees. Every now and then, he would catch a glimpse of her ahead of him. A flash of blonde hair. A hint of her blue miniskirt. He ran past John Locke carving the Swan Station code into a tree with one of his knives. 4… 8… 15… "You'll need more faith than that, Sayid," the older man said in his strange, calm way.

Sayid ran on, increasing his speed, his heart pounding. How was she faster than him? How? With her asthma, she had never been able to run so far before. As he sped through a clearing, he noticed Charlie hanging by his neck from a tree. Charlie was holding a gun to his head and muttering, "Don't pretend to be. Don't pretend to be." Sayid continued on. He had to catch Shannon! Ahead of him, he saw the open doorway of the Hatch. He ran inside.

He was running through the dark, concrete corridor of the Hatch. He was striding briskly through the bleak hallway of the Iraqi military prison, back in the familiar uniform of the Republican Guard. Omar had sent for him. A new prisoner had been brought in, and he was to help with the questioning. He stepped inside the interrogation room, and blinked a few times in confusion. "You are not Omar."

"Shut up!" the short, brunette woman spat at him. She stared at him a moment, and then smirked. "Cute beret," she sneered. He didn't mention to the woman that she, herself was wearing full Guard regalia, including the beret.

"What are you doing here, Ana-Lucia?" he asked.

"You are both here to interrogate the prisoner," said an annoyed voice. He turned to see Nadia sitting in the corner of room, scowling at the screen of an Apple II computer that commanded her complete attention. She didn't bother to look up at him as she asked, "Are you going to hurt her, Sayid?"

"The prisoner is ready," Ana-Lucia hissed. Sayid turned to look at the person sitting in the chair in front of him. It was Shannon. She was wearing a hajib that clashed weirdly with her miniskirt. Her shirt was still covered in blood. She looked up at him with dark, accusatory eyes. It was the same look she had given him when she had told him that he would leave her one day. He wanted to rush to her, hold her in his arms, tell her everything would be all right. He didn't move.

He heard Ana-Lucia laughing and looked over. She was carving bamboo in sharp spikes. "Did you really think that you could save her? You?" she asked. "I know what you are. You couldn't save anyone."

Nadia spoke up, still not taking her eyes off the computer screen. "He likes to be the hero. It's one of his games he keeps playing." Sayid's heart sank. If there had ever been one person in the world who had believed in him, it had been Nadia. She gave an exasperated sigh and bared her teeth at the computer.

Sayid glanced around the room at the three women. Ana-Lucia was staring at him with a disgusted expression, as if he were the most pathetic thing she had ever seen. Nadia never looked at him, but appeared to be ready to throw the Apple across the room in frustration. Shannon's expression was the worst. She looked so hurt, and he knew he had failed her.

Ana-Lucia sprang into sudden action. She picked up a bamboo spike and moved toward Shannon. She looked up at him. "Are you going to help or not?" Nadia pounded her fist on the keyboard.

"No," Sayid whispered. He was moving toward the table where the spikes were laying. "No." He looked over at Shannon. A tear slid down her cheek. He picked up a spike. "This isn't what I wanted," he pleaded. Shannon glared back at him. He moved toward her, spike in hand.

"Ready?" asked Ana-Lucia.

Bwip!

The room shifted out of view. The last thing he saw was Shannon's furious eyes.

Bwip!

He came into consciousness slowly. What had woken him? Why did his back hurt so much? Because he was sleeping on a cold, rock floor. Why was he doing that? Why wasn't he sleeping at the beach, curled up warm next to Shannon? He jolted upright as memories of recent events flooded back.

The rain. The gunshot. The blood. Shannon falling. An unknown brunette woman holding a gun, and wearing a horrified expression. Rage had taken hold of him, and he had wanted to hurt that woman. He had wanted to use every technique he had learned in the Guard to make her experience pain she had never imagined before. He had wanted to kill her as slowly as he knew how. Then Shannon had moaned and feebly grasped at the fabric of his tank top. He found himself running down the hill, holding Shannon tightly against his chest. Away from the woman with the gun. Away from Jin and Michael. Had he really seen them? Toward the caves. Toward Jack. Toward the only possibility of hope he had left.

He had expected Jack to pronounce her dead immediately. He had expected Jack to look up at him with an expression of deep sorrow and pity. Instead, Jack's expression was grim and determined. He had started issuing orders. Orders that Sayid had followed at once, even though he could no longer remember what they were.

How many days ago had that been? Two? Three? He had slept only randomly and fitfully. When his body gave out entirely, he slept, otherwise, he was too afraid he would wake up and find that she had left him. When he did sleep, he had dreams that were almost as bad as the reality.

He rolled onto his hands and knees and moved toward the person lying on the mattress next to him. He looked at the still, silent form of the woman he loved. Was she still breathing? He bent closer to her.

Bwip!

Something, something small, hit him in the back of the head. He ignored it, as he listened for signs of life. Her breath came in small shallow gasps, and he felt a flood of relief. He felt for a pulse. It was weak and unsteady, but it was there. He felt another object hit his shoulder. She was horribly pale, even in the poor light of the caves. She nearly matched the white sheets she rested on. Another projectile flew through the air, but missed its target and landed on Shannon's airline blanket. It was a pomegranate seed. Absentmindedly, Sayid knocked it away. He could only think about Shannon now. Besides, there was only one person horrible enough to try to annoy him when he was already so obviously miserable.

Bwip!

Another pomegranate seed hit his ear.


	2. Fear

Disclaimer: The characters and locations of Lost are owned by JJ, Damon, and the folks of ABC. I am making no profit from this.

**Pain and Pomegranates**

**Part 2: Fear**

Assured that Shannon's condition had not worsened, Sayid turned to face his pomegranate-armed assailant. "I see you are feeling better," he said dryly.

Sawyer grinned impishly, if tiredly, up at him from the other mattress a few feet away. For the past few days, Sawyer had been drifting through varying levels of consciousness. This was the first Sayid had seen him fully alert. "It seems I'm not gonna die after all. Sorry to disappoint ya, Captain Falafel." Sayid was far past the point of caring what Sawyer called him. He couldn't manage to find even the smallest amount of anger towards the man who normally could push his buttons as easily as Locke entered the code into the computer. Shannon was dieing. Nothing else mattered. He turned back to watch her, which earned him another pomegranate seed to the head. "You ain't much of a companion," Sawyer huffed. Sayid ignored him and stroked the back of Shannon's hand. "Say, where did these mattresses come from anyways? Pretty comfy by Craphole Island standards," Sawyer asked.

"Jack had Hurley and Charlie bring them up from the Hatch," Sayid answered wearily. Her hand was ice cold. It drove a wave of terror through him.

"Oh yeah, the hatch. What was in that thing? It still wasn't opened when the raft left."

Sayid sighed. "I am not really in the mood for a conversation right now. I am sure someone will be happy to tell you all about it later."

"Well, I want to know now. And you're the only person around at the moment."

"Fine. Among other things, a Scottish man, a shower, a record player, some assault rifles, and a computer that supposedly will end the world. If you wish to know more, I suggest you ask Locke the next time he is here. He loves to talk about the Hatch. Now please be quiet."

"Oh, you can _not_ just leave me with that, Al-Jazeera." Sayid turned and gave Sawyer a look. Had he really resurrected that nickname, after Charlie had laughed at him? "What?" responded Sawyer. "It's a news network. And you're bein' about as informative as one of those." Sayid turned back to Shannon. "You've gotta give me something. Think I'm better off not knowing about that computer. What happened to the Scotsman?"

"Jack shouted and pointed a gun at him, and he ran off into the jungle. He has not been seen since."

Sawyer chewed a pomegranate seed thoughtfully. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Shannon had been thrilled with the discovery of the Hatch. She had immediately signed the two of them up for Hatch duty when Locke had come looking for volunteers. "Enjoying a little piece of civilization for just pushing a button? Sounds like a deal to me. " she had said. Once there, she had claimed, "It's like the friggin Hilton of Craphole Island," and immediately sprinted for the shower. He had considered joining her, but wasn't sure how she feel about that. She had come out looking more radiant than ever. Afterwards, she had thrown their laundry in the washing machine, and teased him about his rather scant island wardrobe. She had watched him input the code, and then wandered off to inspect the record collection, as he went to take his own shower. When he had returned, she had a mischievous grin, and said she had a surprise. She had turned the record player on and "Beyond the Sea" started playing. Their song. Although it had been a copy of the English version, she had sung it in French, her beautiful voice filling the concrete bunker. That day, she had been too excited by the change of scenery to put up her usual defenses. She had kissed him freely, without first searching his face for confirmation that he wanted it as much as she did. She had been so vibrant and full of life that day. And today…

He looked at her pale, fragile body, and his breath caught. Would he ever hear her singing "La Mer" again? Would he ever see her eyes full of light and laughter? Would he ever feel her warm lips pressed against his? Ever since he had heard the gunshot in the jungle, a black terror had seized him. It had infiltrated his heart and threatened at every moment to consume him. True, he had not given up on Shannon at any time. Rather than taking out vengeance on Ana-Lucia, he had raced her to Jack, and he had stayed by her side every moment since then. But he was a rational man, and he knew all too well what a bullet wound to the abdomen could do to a person. He had seen many fellow Guardsmen as well as many enemies go down that way. It was a slow, painful way to die. He couldn't think of any that had survived. It wasn't logical to believe that Shannon would. But the thought of her dieing seemed just as absurd. If she died, she would lose the precious second chance at life the island had given her. They both would lose it. Why would they have survived the plane crash, only to have their new lives taken away?

Sayid shut his eyes tight as a new wave of pain and fear hit him. He had been listening to Locke too much. He knew better than to think like that. She would die, and he would watch, and then he would be alone again, just like he deserved. There was no second chance. No new life. That was the ramblings of an old fool. His hands clenched into tight fists, and tears pricked at his eyes.

Bwip! A pomegranate seed bounced off his shoulder.

His eyes opened. The fear lost its strangle hold on him. Shannon was alive at the moment. As long as she was, he would stay with her. He had sworn he wouldn't leave her, and he intended to keep that vow. Even if it meant putting up with Sawyer.


	3. Strength

Disclaimer: The characters and locations of Lost are owned by JJ, Damon, and the folks of ABC. I am making no profit from this.

**Pain and Pomegranates**

**Part 3: Strength**

"Are you having fun?" Sayid asked the Southerner.

"As much fun as I can have at the moment. There's not much to entertain me confined to the bed like this. This cave ain't got cable. There ain't even any books to read, or enough light to read them with. Heck, even Jackass ain't around to bug. Where's he at anyway?"

"Jacka-" Sayid caught himself, but not before Sawyer snorted at him. "Jack went to the Hatch." Before he had dozed off, Jack had told him that he remembered seeing some sort of serum at the Hatch. Apparently, Desmond had grabbed several vials in his rush to escape. Shannon's condition must be bleak, if Jack was willing to use an unknown and untested drug.

"So, what, did he just leave us here to fend for ourselves then?"

"Of course not. He left Sun and Libby to watch." He pointed to a distant corner of the otherwise empty cave, at the two women quietly sorting herbs. "Perhaps you could irritate them for awhile."

"Well, you are being a bit of bore tonight," Sawyer told Sayid pointedly. "Hey girls!" he shouted. The women looked up, then looked at each other in the way women did that always made Sayid nervous. Sun continued sorting herbs, but Libby grabbed a couple of water bottles and headed toward them.

Sawyer grinned as she approached, showing off his dimples. "Enjoying that pomegranate?" she asked him.

"Immensely," he said with a quick look at Sayid. He smiled up at Libby. "Why it's almost as sweet as you are darling."

Libby rolled her eyes at him and turned to Sayid. "How's our other patient doing?" she asked as she knelt down to check on Shannon.

"No better," Sayid replied.

Libby looked up at him. "No worse either."

"He's a real water bottle is half empty kinda guy," remarked Sawyer.

"Speaking of which," said Libby standing back up. "Here's some water for you and some antibiotics to take. Good to see you're responding to them." She turned to Sayid. "And here's some water for you too. Don't forget to eat something every now and then." She handed him a water bottle. He gave her a smile which he tried to force into his eyes. He knew it didn't make it.

Sawyer watched Libby as she wandered back toward Sun. "She's pretty cute."

"Name a woman that you do not think is cute," Sayid responded.

Sawyer pondered that for a moment before continuing. "Got some spunk too. Bein' here seems to have improved her. She was pretty nervous and jumpy when I first met her. 'Course anyone would be under the rule of Princess Dictator." Sayid felt his hand clench involuntarily. Sawyer, realizing he had invoked the name of Satan, rushed to change the subject. "She's a shrink though. Don't think I'd like to hear about all my problems if I'm trying to get her into bed." Sayid was unfamiliar with the term shrink. He had gathered the woman was some sort of doctor, but hadn't thought beyond it. He didn't care enough to ask now. The fear was circling him again, ready to pounce.

He must have looked confused however, since Sawyer clarified. "A shrink. A psychologist. Someone who gets paid to listen to your problems and tell you why you're so screwed up. She oughta have a lot of fun around this place. We're a pretty messed up bunch."

"This is true," Sayid found himself saying. Sawyer had gone quiet, so he went back to watching Shannon. Her brow was furrowed in pain. What would she have to talk to Doctor Libby about? What had happened in her past to, as Sawyer put it, 'screw her up"? Why was she always so defensive, ready with a quick put-down or sarcastic comment? They had talked very little about their pasts, but he had gathered enough to have some idea. A passing mention that her parents had died. A few muttered phrases about a "wicked stepmother". Certainly he had seen the way her brother had treated her.

In many ways, she was one of the strongest people he knew. She had endured a great deal. She had made it through her parents' deaths, her stepmother's wrath, Boone's constant belittling. If she could tap into that strength now, it could save her. But she hadn't come through those years without a cost. Although she had great strength, she was completely unaware of it. She believed she was worthless, just as Boone had said she was.

He had discovered her weakness the hard way. He had become frustrated when she was translating the French woman's maps, and snapped at her. He had meant the scribblings were useless, not that she was. But she had not seen it that way. Ever since then, he had tried to give her encouragement, and make her see that she was not useless. He had helped her do things, but had never done them for her. He should have tried harder to make her see her worth. He should have held her in his arms and whispered that she was strong over and over until she believed it. He should have climbed to the top of the mountain and shouted it until she had believed him. And he should have believed her when she said she saw Walt.

He had failed her on so many levels. If she died, it would be as much his fault as it was Ana-Lucia's. He loved her. Didn't he trust her as well? If she said she saw Walt, shouldn't that have been enough for him? It had seemed so irrational at the time. But this was Mystery Friggin' Island, where polar bears roamed the jungle, where invisible monsters ate pilots, and where computer codes could mean the end of the world. Nothing made sense here. So what was so crazy about seeing visions of a missing child? His disbelief had cost them both everything. When he had finally seen the boy himself, he had been too stunned to respond when she had run off. He had sworn that he would protect her, and he had failed. He had failed her. His vision blurred. He was shaking. He put his head on his knees and a sob of despair escaped him. This was his fault! It was his fault!

Bwip!

Sayid had had enough. He turned and glared at Sawyer. His hands reached out and gathered as many pomegranate seeds as he could find on the cave floor. He launched himself at his nemesis.

Sun looked up and gasped in alarm. She started across the cave, but Libby grasped her arm. "We need to stop them. They… they don't like each other very much," Sun tried to explain. There wasn't time for much else than that.

But Libby had been trained to understand people's emotions and behaviors, even when they didn't. She had watched Sawyer bait and taunt the other man since he had woken up. She tightened her grip on Sun's arm. "I think they're just fine." Sun started to protest, but stopped in wonderment when she heard laughter echo across the cave.

"Now are you having fun?" Sayid growled ruthlessly. Sawyer was laughing too hard to answer him. Sayid's hands were tight against the other man's head, and he could feel the little pomegranate seeds bursting under his palms. Sawyer, still giggling, pushed the Iraqi off of him and sat up. Sayid was surprised to find himself burst into laughter as well. The other man looked utterly ridiculous. His blonde hair was now a purplish-red, and streaks of juice dripped down his face creating red stripes.

How many days had it been since Sayid had laughed? How many days since he had felt anything at all but terror and pain? He realized that maybe he wouldn't have to face this by himself. Maybe people he thought were enemies were actually friends. Words he had once spoken to Charlie suddenly floated through his head. "You are not alone. Do not pretend to be." He remembered that Charlie had echoed that in the dream. What, then, had Locke been trying to tell him?

Sawyer had stopped laughing, and was now looking at Sayid seriously. At least he looked as serious as someone with pomegranate-colored hair could. "Buck up, Aladdin," he said. "Sticks there is one of the most stubborn women I've ever laid eyes on. She ain't gonna go down without a fight."

Sawyer was right, Sayid knew. He turned back to Shannon and looked at her more closely. It seemed to him now that her brow wasn't knit in pain, but in determination. It was the look she had when she had translated the maps. It was the look she got when she was trying to get Vincent to listen to her. It was the look she got when she was trying to get him to listen to her. The fear dissipated like a heavy fog in the sunlight. She would fight. She was strong. And he had faith in her.

He turned back to Sawyer. The other man was looking at him with the same serious expression. He felt he should thank the man, but knew Sawyer would not accept it. Libby really did have her work cut out for her. Instead, he picked up a stray pomegranate seed and bounced it off Sawyer's forehead with a smirk.

"Damn Arab."

"Damn redneck."


End file.
